Voice
by Dranatic-Snitch
Summary: SasuNaru: Pointless One-Shot/Drabble Based On Sasuke's POV. His Thoughts On Naruto's Frequent Chatting...


**Dranatic-Snitch:**Well, here's my second 'story', if it can be called that. It's more of a drabble. I love the character of Naruto. It's just that, his voice can get so irritating, and he always puts his foot in it, especially in a bad situation, by saying the wrong thing. I thought I'd write down this insane little one-shot about how Sasuke feels about Naruto's frequent talking.

**Warnings: **This is SasuNaru, although only hints at the character are actually mentioned, so if you dislike Shounen-ai or this pairing, don't read it. Flamers will just make me laugh hysterically...I don't care about them.  
Also, it's a tiny bit AU, since I know that Konoha doesn't really seem to market MP3 players, and headphones are mentioned here... If I got Sasuke OOC, then I'm sorry, I tried my best to keep him IC, but the pairing itself isn't canon (at least not yet XD), so..yeah...

Please enjoy :)

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I love you. Really, I do. I know it must be hard to believe it, especially with all the insults and rough tones that I cast your way. It's just…you never know when to shut the hell up. It's like a constant buzz in my ear…the annoyance of a gnat passing by the outer shell of my aural canal, whining in an unwavering, unflattering voice. Yap yap yap. I sometimes get driven mad by that voice, and all the things you say. I know I slight your feelings when I simply turn my music up or incline my head away from your noise. Hell, I think I've even put my hands over my ears a couple of times, in a vain attempt to filter your voice out. It seems that even when I'm dropping the subtlety, you still don't catch on quite enough to stop with the verbal onslaught. If you didn't speak…well, I'd make less of a pursuit at avoiding your sight line every time I glimpse you and your vibrant accompaniment of orange and blue.

It's not just your voice that makes me want to tear out your voice box and trample it beneath my feet, although all of those little intonations, pronunciations, different volumes and strong accent are reason enough. I hate the way you try to engage me in conversation. If I wanted to talk, I assure you that you would be at the top of my 'chatting buddies' list. However, no such list exists in my mind; I do not crave idle gossiping and vocal spars with anybody. I especially wear headphones to deter those stupid enough to ignore my stony countenance, firmly closed off and unwelcoming to conversation. Why must you always attempt to talk at me, using a limited vocabulary to batter at me with irritating, crude phrases or insults. Pathetic really, your attempts at forcing me into a spoken battle. It is irritating: bone-chippingly so. Every little murmur of your voice grates away at the bones of my skull, and I so desperately want to wrap my hands around your throat and squeeze the words before they escape the dark canal that is your throat. Hands wringing to compress the speeches, stop them forming and leaving your mouth, prevent them seeping into the air and, consequentially, into my unforgiving ears. But I would never do that, strangling is not a panacea, and I love you.

If you had something interesting to say, I would gladly listen and participate in a discussion with you. However, you seem to speak only because you can, not in the event that you have something world-shattering to contribute. The world is such a noisy place, the people strolling around make slapping-tapping noises on the floor with their shoes. Even the wind, something that will likely remain after the destruction of the human race, invades my ear drums. But the wind, and the shoes and so many other things, they are a rhythm, a beat that I could dance to, if I cared for dancing. You voice…it's just so penetrative, a foghorn on a desolate (yet stunningly so) sea. You speak to fill awkward silences, yet silence is just what a situation needs, a pause in a rabble of confusion. A return to base, in which a solution can be summarised. What an awkward situation does NOT need is your lacklustre attempts at coercing people out of an argument, an obnoxious suggestion to purchase ramen. It's always with the damn ramen. I know that you don't intend to seem obnoxious, selfish or repetitive, but your tries at breaking the ice between tense companions lend to that notion.

In silence, you are so much more. Without the verbal narration, I can concentrate on the little separate expressions of your face, each contortion, line and stretch of muscles. I can memorize each and every reaction with these red eyes, all the variations of your own and their endless sea colours. It sometimes seems like your eyes are some kind of mood ring; did you know that your eyes subtly change in hue and saturation in different situations? Only yours, in the whole of Konoha. It's strange, for when you are melancholy and keeping up your infamous false pretence, your reproachful soul-windows darken to the depths of the blue ocean. Other times, happier occasions, their blue rivals the sky. Your eyes say so much more than an hour-long vocal monologue. Not to mention your smile. It appears that you have so many kinds of smile, the enormously impossible grin stretching your lined cheeks and credibility. The small, secret smiles we share…the smiles I like most.

I don't mean to hurt your feelings when I say this, but just take the time to observe what's around you, rather than opening your mouth to question it. I do love you; I would not even attempt to change you otherwise. I would just let you get on with it; driving me away. For my sake, your lover's sanity, lower the pitch, tone down the frequency, sometimes stopper your voice. You are much more beautiful when you are valid in arguing with me. I do not crave eternal silence from your soft lips, just a break from the harsh insults, the meaningless babble. I know that you irritate even yourself sometimes, I see you clench your fist as if to say "That was retarded. I shouldn't have said that…"

Let me lead you into conversations for a change, an exchange between our two contrasting souls. We juxtapose so amazingly; can't you let us connect for once? An equal share of words we can exchange, yes? You drive me mad; I can't explain our relational dynamics. Do I truly want you to shut up? I fear I would go insane without your voice, but would kill in the presence of it. For now, just be quiet, let me decide, allow me to be in control. I am your love, and you are mine. Our kisses take away all the words you were about to say…wash away the 'dattebayo' forming on your lips…

**Dranatic-Snitch:**Well, how terrible was it? Feedback would really be appreciated. If you (by some stretch of my imagination) enjoyed this, please check out my other fic, "A Tale Of Two Masks". I'd love some constructive criticism/praise. Thanks X)

Btw, I spelt it 'colour' instead of 'color', becuase I am English, not American. Since Naruto isn't American, I didn't feel obliged to change my spelling choices.


End file.
